#he is Aredhel's son so it could kinda work

[eri-pl]

Maeglin + Turin + their twin swords = the ultimate city-dooming combo.

I think Maeglin should helped bring about the fall of more cities. I think it would have been funny.

[tar-maitime]

with their heart still intact

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon } Findekano Additional: modern AU, character injury, recovery WC: 1k

For @russingonweek Day 6 - AU Prompt: Canon divergence and fix-its

There was no clock in the hospital waiting room, and Maedhros never wore a watch, and her phone battery was low enough that she’d forsworn checking it every other minute to see what time it was now. She’d been reduced to staring at the other people camped out here to try and distract herself from the thoughts that threatened to spiral. They’d told her Fingon was still alive when she got here, that they were “working on him”, but that was well over two hours ago, and she hadn’t heard anything since.

“Thalion?” a nurse called out, and the woman Maedhros had been watching, dark-haired and grim-faced with two small children in tow and a third clearly on the way, rose and walked stiffly where she was directed, holding her children’s hands tightly.

Then it was just Maedhros and a short, stocky bearded man and a willowy girl, near tears, left in the waiting room. She’d made calls to Fingon’s parents and siblings when she’d first arrived, but none of them had made it here yet - Fingolfin and Anaire had been at a political dinner across the state, Turgon was frantically trying to find childcare for his daughter and also Aredhel’s son whom he’d been watching, Aredhel herself was somewhere with no cell reception, and Argon was out of state at college. 

Maedhros thanked anyone listening, fervently, that she’d been as close as she had. As bad as it was waiting here, she was sure she would’ve had gone spare if she’d been stuck somewhere else, unable to even do this much.

“Vanyaran?” somebody said, and she startled, scrambling to her feet. 

“It’s Noldoran,” she told the nurse reflexively, “but Fingon Vanyaran is my husband. How is he? Is he going to be all right? Is he --”

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “He’s going to be fine,” she assured, gesturing for Maedhros to follow her back. “He’s got some pretty bad burns, and a nasty concussion on top of that - not quite a skull fracture though, thank goodness - so he doesn’t look his best, but he’ll pull through.”

Maedhros felt like she could breathe for the first time in hours. “Thank you,” she murmured shakily. “That’s good. Thank you. Can I...?”

“He wa sawake last I checked,” the nurse said, turning a corner and gesturing Maedhros toward a door. “He’s right through there. I’ll let you have some time before you have to stick to visiting hours. But if he’s asleep, let him sleep, he needs it.”

“Of course,” Maedhros promised, and then she was through the door without waiting another moment.

The hospital room was small, just big enough for the bed and medical equipment and some cupboards. The walls were a sickly pale yellow with wainscoted wallpaper patterned with badly drawn mauve flowers, but the room had Fingon in it, and that was more than enough for her.

He was lying still, his eyes closed and a saline drop going into one heavily bandaged arm - all of him was heavily bandaged. His braids were gone, Maedhros noted distantly as she dropped into the hard plastic chair beside him, burned or cut off she couldn’t tell.

He shifted as she sat down, and then opened his bloodshot eyes to look at her. “Russe,” he murmured, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” she choked out, barely holding back tears now that she knew everything was relatively all right. “I came right away. They just let me in. Ho are you feeling?”

Fingon appeared to assess himself for a moment, and winced. “Everything hurts,” he informed her. “I was a little bit on fire. Not anymore, though. And I think they’ve got me on painkillers, ‘cause the hurting is kinda...far away.”

“That’s okay,” Maedhros said, and reached her hand out for his bandaged one on instinct. He took it before she could think better of it. “You’re going to be okay, Finno, I was so worried, but they said you’ll make it no problem. You’ll just have to rest and heal for a while.”

Fingon hummed and nodded slightly. Then, “Is Gil okay? Where is he? Is he - what did you tell him?”

“He’s fine, he’s with Atar and Curufin, they were closest,” Maedhros assured. “He and Tyelpe are probably having a lovely time. He knows you got hurt and that i had to come see you without him, but that’s it. Nothing scary.”

“That’s good.” Fingon let out a sigh. “Sorry I worried you, Russe.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not like you asked to get in a wreck.” She sniffed hard, still determined not to cry. “I’m just glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Fall to the dark side,” Fingon said, slurring slightly, echoing an old joke of theirs, “and then where would Gil be?”

“Exactly.” Maedhros just barely stopped herself from squeezing his hand, not wanting to hurt him. “So rest up and get better, okay? I’ll come as often as they’ll let me, and I’ll bring Gil, too, now that --” Now that she knew Fingon wasn’t about to die. “-- I’ll bring him.”

The nurse was back, knocking lightly on the doorframe, and Fingon’s eyelids were starting to flutter with sleepiness, so Maedhros stood and brused a kiss over his forehead, just barely not making contact. “I love you, Finnonya. Sleep well.”

Then she had to leave, ushered out, but the awful thing constricting her chest when she arrived had gone away now. Fingon was alive. He’d get well. Everything else, she could handle, as long as he was still there.

[sauroff]

CW FOR THIS POST: This is about Aredhel, so there are discussions about abuse and how it works. Also, this is a very long post.

I've been meaning to talk about my thoughts on Aredhel's story for a while, but kept procrastinating it. Mostly because I'm scare that my struggles with writting in general and english in particular might lead to misunderstandings. So, let me start with this: Eöl is trash. Nothing I'm going to say next changes the fact that he is an abuser and feminicide. And I'm most definitely not blaming Aredhel for anything.

Ok, so. Most of the time I see people interpreting Aredhel's story as if she was forcibly kidnapped and abused. And I think she was, but not in the magical way most people seem to think (tbh, Melian was closer to that for me). She wasn't kept there by magic like Thingol, she didn't fell for Eöl because she was under any spell. She was kidnapped and abused, but in a more realistic way. And that is why I actually find her story very interesting and important. It's a surprisingly good and realistic representation of this kind of relationship, wrote in a very different time and context.

So, let's start with the basics. For me, Eöl only used magic to make her get lost and meet him. He didn't magically entrance her or anything, he just generated a situation that would put him in advantage: make her scared, vulnerable, then present himself as her savior and helper. He manipulated her. And I think that's exactly what he did for the rest of their relationship. But, at first, he was probably just very charming with her, like most real abusers are. He made her fall for a façade and, when she finally started to see him for who he really was, they already had one son and there was too much on stake. Also, I know there is a common interpretation of Eöl being abusive with Maeglin, because of how things ended, but that's not exactly how I see it. At least not physically. Personally, I think that Aredhel wouldn't have doubted for one second to just leave Eöl (or kill him) if that was the case. I mean, is a very logical and valid interpretation, and also interesting to explore. It just doesn't fit my vision of Aredhel. I can't see any reason why he would be able to be physically abusive with either of them without them running away. She was probably more powerful than him, and she wasn't alone in the world, didn't depend on him. So, I think his methods were more psychological, and he charmed her just as much as he abused her. The whole "I scream you over dirty dishes today, but bring you flowers next morning" thing.

Anyway, back to track. The reason why Aredhel took so long in seeing Eöl's true colors was that she had already normalized certain abusive behaviors from people close to her. I mean, Eöl kept her trapped in his forest, but Turgon kept her in Gondolin before that. And she may had rebelled against him, but she didn't exactly scape from there, she just got Turgon's permission to leave. This sort of attitude could be interpreted by her as "He keeps me here to protect me, because he loves me" although he was probably just protecting his city. On a similar way, we know by their actions that Curufin and Celegorm could be really cruel with women, equally capable of manipulating, kidnapping and killing than Eöl. There is a certain mindset behind those actions that goes beyond the Oath, and it's something that should have been manifested in other attitudes that Aredhel could have seen and unconsciously naturalized. Curufin's inactions when Eöl goes to his house asking for Aredhel kinda probes that it wasn't just the Oath making him a douche. He focuses on the fact that he married her without paying a dote, instead of, idk, WORRING ABOUT HIS SUPPOSED FRIEND. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE to think about Curufin, Celegorm and Aredhel as really good friends. Maybe things only changed in Middle Earth. Or maybe not, and they were still good but very flawed friends. My take on this is that I prefer to keep my headcanons about their friendship and my more serious interpretation on the canon as two separate things, because I don't think that Curufin's actions are those of a good friend...but I still want to imagine them as such.

Ok, the point is that by her friends and her own brother, Aredhel might have naturalized some of the abusive behaviors Eöl displayed, and that's why It took her so long to understand the situation she was in. I also think he wasn't physically or sexually violent with her until the very end. But I can totally see him being verbally abusive and manipulative, making her feel guilty (about Aqualonde, for example) and destroying her self esteem, and with it her wishes for freedom. I also feel that Maeglin might have been a tool for him, another way to keep her tied to him. She could leave, but it would be more difficult if she also had to take care of a son, right?

Lastly, the other thing I find very interesting in this story is that generational patterns of abuse are also present, with Maeglin kinda repeating some of his father's behaviours by the end. And I understand that lots of people feel that this isn't fair, specially because of Idhril's attitude toward him from the very beginning (girl, if the boy's thoughts make you uncomfortable, maybe you should stop checking them out? Is not like he is actually saying anything or acting weird with you). But it's interesting to see a bit of how generational patterns can work, and how certain experiences and trauma can get reapeated if they aren't properly worked out and healed.

So yeah, I guess that's all. I felt like I needed to put this into words because most of the time I see the whole thing reduced to "Eöl forced Aredhel with magic". And yeah, it's a valid interpretation. But I personally think it's much more interesting to think that maybe Aredhel loved him in the beginning, that she fell for him, just like most victims of domestic violence fall for their abusers. She just realized too late the kind of man she had married, and there were other factors, other men in her life, that, unintentionally, helped with that.

[estelfortuna]

So, I was thinking it's kinda weird that Boromir wasn't married.

- He was 40 years old, and supposedly didn't have the same longevity of the Numenoreans.

- He was the eldest son, heir of the Steward of Gondor.

- He was a military commander, risking his life all the time while diving into constant battle against Mordor.

- In case Boromir died, Denethor would definitely want a grandson, son of Boromir, to be his heir. Anyone but Faramir.

It would make sense that he was married and had at least one son. Even if he wasn't interested, he had too many responsibilities and was exposed to many dangers, it would be his duty to have an heir.

Sure, there's a good explanation for this. The Professor believed in marriages forged through love, specially considering all his struggles to marry Edith against all adversities. Even though we have some cases of bad relationships in his Legendarium (Eöl and Aredhel, Aldarion and Erendis), even these began with love before the shit hit the fan. The History of Middle-earth explicitly states that elves do not marry if not out of love.

So, the Professor wouldn't give Boromir a wife and son just because it would make sense, he would only do it if he could develop well their bond (they would certainly be very important when Gandalf and Pippin arrived in Minas Tirith, but it would possibly be too much work, specially considering he didn't even plan Faramir before he "showed up" in Thw Two Towers). So, he didn't do it. But I can' help but imagine how would it be if it happened. It would add more complexity to Boromir, as he would try to take the Ring not just to protect his kingdom, but also to protect his wife and son. Also, imagine Faramir having people in his family that legitimely loved him and cared about him, unlike Denethor (who's slightly better in the books, but is still a terrible father). Imagine Pippin meeting them.

The Legendarium is perfect, Boromir is perfect, even if this didn't happen. But I would love if something like that had happened.

[ambarto]

Headcanons for Maglor’s and Curufinwe’s wives

Don’t you guys just love how so many of “canon” female characters in the Silm end up being basically your own OCs? Anyways, pretty much what it says on the tin, my Feanorian wives OCs. A little bit of these headcanons are in my fic Much, more, less, nothing already, but I’m gonna expand on pretty much whatever my thoughts are. Very long post under the cut (and I sure hope the cut is working because if it isn’t this is gonna be long to scroll through).

Maglor’s wife - Vílerë

- The name for this girl is my own probably kinda sloppy work. I found in some Quenya dictionaries the word “vílë” which means “gentle breeze”, and it fit perfectly within my vision of her. The ending -rë is feminine and can denote an agental meaning, making the name mean “[girl] who makes a gentle breeze”, or something along those lines. I want to point out I have never studied Quenya at all and so this goes off entirely on various dictionaries I’ve been through.

- Vílerë is the girl’s mother-name, and it refers to two things. The first, is that she was born with very weak vocal chords, meaning her voice always sounds barely louder than a whisper. The second, is that she is also a very skilled flute player.

- Her parents are Noldor, but her grandmother is Teleri. Vílerë’s eyes are dark brown, which comes from her Teleri grandmother. Her hair is black, and she wears it long and plainly braided. Her skin is a light brown color. She’s not considered exceptionally beautiful, but not ugly, either. By Noldor standards, she’s cute, but in a little plain way, and a little on the shorter side.

- She’s a quiet girl, she doesn’t speak much. Partially it’s because of her voice, but it’s mostly just her personality. She doesn’t like drawing attention to herself, and she prefers being alone or with a few good friends rather than in the middle of a crowd. Because of this, she also doesn’t play her flute a lot in public, although she is known for being one of the best players and her music is loved by anyone who hears it. With those who know her, she’s kind and sweet, full of smiles and with a sharp wit you would not guess at first.

- While quiet and introverted, she’s got a strong will, and she will let people clearly if there is something that displeases her. She picks her words carefully, and if angry she’s good at getting her point across in the most cutting ways.

- She and Maglor met through music, and spent a great deal of time playing and composing together. She understood his more introspective moments better than most others, and she was drawn to his more caring side. She was good at getting him out of any bad mood and at humoring him when he got involved in some kind of musical competition with others; and he in turn helped her get out of her shell a little, but never tried to force her to come out on the spotlights with him. She took a liking to him from the start, although she sometimes rolled her eyes when his Feanorian pride showed through a bit too much.

- While still deeply in love, she did not follow him in exile. She did not agree with the Kinslaying, especially being part Teleri herself, and thought that it was absurd to do all of this just because of some rocks, no matter how beautiful they were. She didn’t want to leave her husband, and was also quite curious to see what was on the other side of the sea, but in the end she stayed in Valinor with her family.

- Other than music, she also enjoyed poetry and theatre. She had an appreciation for painting, but she never really learnt how to do it, and was more content with just looking at art rather than creating it. She also knew a bit about woodworking, because it was her parents’ profession, but she never really liked it. She enjoyed traveling too, and seeing new landscapes, and after marrying Maglor took her around to see all the cool places he had been to with his father and brothers.

- Some people had to say about her and Maglor marrying, because Vílerë lived in a village outside of Tirion and her family was one of the common folk. Some particularly vicious ones also complained that she didn’t look beautiful enough, but they had all learnt very well to not badmouth the beauty of the wife of someone of Feanor’s line. She was honestly more annoyed by receiving all that attention than by the negative comments in themselves, because she hated the positive attention too.

- She has one younger sister, who married before her and had two children. Vílerë herself married late in life compared to the average, although she was still a couple centuries younger than her husband. Out of her in-laws, the people she got along with better were Maedhros and Nerdanel, and she also was on friendly terms with Fingon and Finrod. While she did not have any quarrels with Feanor or with Maglor’s more outgoing brothers, she did find them exhausting in the long run, and better dealt with in small doses.

- While she grew to resent the Valar, although not as strongly as her husband’s family, when she was younger she liked to spend time in Lorien, and the quiet presence of Irmo and Este.

Curufin’s wife - Vanien

- Her name I took from RealElvish.net because I got lazy, although for some reason it’s not listed there anymore? For some reason? The closest it lists are Vanie and Vaniel, idk why they got rid of the specific one I used. Just my luck. Anyways, Vanien comes from “vane”, which means “fair or beautiful”.

- Her name says all about how she looks. She is the picture of Noldor standards of beauty. She has black hair and strikingly blue eyes, her skin is pale, and her facial features look like they could be put on a statue. She’s the kind of woman who could compete in Tirion Next Top Model, if they had it.

- Her family is entirely Noldor, going back all the way to Cuivienen, and fairly respected. They’re not nobles, but her parents are very good healers, which in Valinor mostly meant they were spectacular surgeons who could fix any idiot who had gotten attacked by a wild boar or something of the sorts. She was herself a healer, and very skilled.

- She and Curufin met though work as well. She had been developing a theory that perhaps one could enchant jewelry to give it properties that would make healing and recovery faster, and she had decided to go look for a good smith who could help her with it. It turned out making that kind of magical jewelry was extremely difficult, but she did get a husband out of the deal.

- She’s a city girl and at ease in the middle of the hustle of Tirion. She’s got a charming smile and she’s an excellent conversationalist. She’s a good girl, but she’s also got a rather competitive and petty streak, and if someone pisses her off she will get herself a nice revenge. Nothing truly bad, of course, but she’s not above turning her husband’s hair green if he acts too annoying. She’s more mischievous than harmful, however.

- Her main flaw is probably that she is a bit vain. She’s very aware of her beauty, and will do her best to flaunt it. She has excellent taste in fashion and hairstyles, and a husband who can craft her some of the most amazing jewelry one could think of. If she goes to a party, one can bet she’ll make sure to be the most breath stoppingly beautiful person in the room.

- She’s more outgoing than her husband, but she doesn’t mind that he sometimes ends up working on a project for days on end, although it does annoy her, as a wife and a healer, how he sometimes ends up forgetting to eat and rest. He often looks for her input when coming up with a design for something. Bitching about people who annoyed them is a bonding activity for them, but of course not their only topic of conversation. They like to go out on rides together, either along or with Curufin’s family. They are both ridiculously proud spouses, Vanien is extremely proud of her handsome, clever, and talented husband, and Curufin is extremely proud of his beautiful, smart, and talented wife. They’re also a good match when it comes to being stubborn.

- Celebrimbor is the only son they had, because Vanien struggled to get pregnant and carry the child to term. Sadly ironical, for a healer, and she was very protective of her son once he was born. She was a caring mother, and the kind who likes to cheer her brooding son by tickling him until he’s out of whatever tantrum he was throwing.

- Officially, it’s said Curufin’s wife stayed in Valinor, but I like to think that she came to Beleriand with him and Celebrimbor. She was a headstrong woman, who had her husband’s resentment towards the Valar and almost enough pride to match him. She did not directly participate in the Kinslaying, but cured the Noldor who had been wounded in it, and got on the ships with her family. Unfortunately, she ended up being killed in the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, and because of her rebellion she was held in Mandos until after the end of the First Age.

- She gets along well with most of Curufin’s family, especially Celegorm and the Ambarussa, and bonded with Feanor by answering all his questions about the body as well as she could. She became good friends with Aredhel, too.

[veliseraptor]

onward and onward, 2.6k, maeglin, follows on this, this, and this (read on ao3), things continue to not get better, cw: self harm, heavy suicidal ideation, it’s not an ‘everybody lives’ au without everything being kinda terrible

They were nearly halfway to the Havens of Sirion before Maeglin realized that there were only three people who knew what he had done.

It struck him sitting alone, sleepless in the dark, and he started up, though the moment after he thought it it seemed obvious. If it were broadly known that he was the traitor who had given up Gondolin’s location, that he was the reason they were now homeless wanderers, that he had betrayed them all because he was weak and a coward-

He doubted that Turgon’s word would be enough to keep him alive.

What explanation had been given for his behavior? The guards that had watched him in the weeks before they left the city - what had they been told? What had been said about his choice to remain behind?

Perhaps it was explained as an act of noble heroism.

That bent him over laughing until he couldn’t breathe and just shook with it, his chest aching.

**

The Havens of Sirion had become a kind of signal fire. A fixed point in time and space that he could orient himself to. At night when he lay awake with thoughts spinning, he contemplated what would happen when he came to it. Idril said I do not want you dead. He and Tuor had not spoken since his first attempt at escape, when the Man had dragged him back. Maeglin was not certain if he was avoiding his uncle or if his uncle was avoiding him.

I do not want you dead. He ought to be pleased with that, perhaps. It seemed the closest he had ever come to his cousin’s favor, even if it was no favor but a desire to see him pay for his crime by living.

Once they reached the Havens of Sirion, he told himself, it would be easy enough to slip away. He spent enough time in solitude that it would take some time to mark his absence. By then he could be well away. Once they reached the Havens of Sirion, the Gondolithrim would have a home, a sanctuary, in place of the one that they had lost. Once they reached the Havens of Sirion–

He would have done - not enough, never enough, but there would be no more. He was already emptied out. All that he needed was to reach that signal fire, and then he could turn and fade back into the dark.

“It will be you and I,” he said to Anguirel. “Perhaps we will ride north, like my mother’s father, and see how far we get.”

“Who are you speaking with?”

Maeglin fell perfectly still, one of his hands curling into a fist, eyes closing. “Where is your mother,” he said, in lieu of answering. “Or your father, for that matter.”

“Over there,” Eärendil said, and it must have been accompanied by some sort of gesture, but Maeglin did not turn to look at him. “There’s no one else here.”

“No,” Maeglin said. “There is not.” He had never had much of an instinct for children, and still less with this one, and still less now. He had been symbolic of a hated bond, but if that was gone now he was just another member of a family that he did not feel he could claim.

“So who were you speaking with?”

“No one,” Maeglin said, after a few moments of silence. “Myself.”

“Was it no one or yourself?” Maeglin opened his eyes, frowning, and found Eärendil’s grey eyes clear and altogether too innocent. Of course he would be clever, like his mother. Who had apparently had a streak of mischief in her youth, though Maeglin had seen it little.

That line of thought gave him a pang, and so he held it close with the other knives that pierced his heart.

“Are you here for some reason, or simply because your parents are busy,” Maeglin said. Eärendil’s face fell a little. You should be kinder, chided a quiet voice, but it was quiet, and he had no more kindness in him anyway. If he ever had.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you,” he said, apparently determined not to be put off.

“Is that so,” Maeglin said blandly. Eärendil frowned at him.

“Naneth says that you are-” he seemed to be trying to recall exact words. Or perhaps trying to think of more diplomatic phrasing. “‘Troubled,’” he said, finally. Maeglin gritted his teeth and let out a short laugh.

“I suppose that is one way of putting it.” Eärendil’s brows knitted together, and Maeglin shook his head. “I am not good company for you, boy. Go on and find your grandfather.”

He didn’t move to leave. “Why?” he asked. “Why aren’t you good company?”

The strangest blend of rage and despair and exhaustion rolled over Maeglin like a wave, and he lowered his head into his hands, suddenly unable to bear his own weight. “Because I have done terrible things,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother knows,” Maeglin said. “Ask her.” There was a hard edge in his voice, like bitter iron. He forced his hands down from his face and gave Eärendil a cold stare. “You are younger than I was when I watched your grandfather execute my father. But you are old enough to know some truths.”

Eärendil’s blue eyes were wide, and Maeglin wished he hadn’t spoken. “Your father was...”

Do not speak to me of my father. “Go,” he said. “As I said. I am no fit company.” He stood and walked as swiftly as he could away, not knowing where he was going, only knowing that he needed to move and needed to be out from under this child’s eyes.

He wondered what Idril would tell him.

**

When he dreamed, his dreams were all of darkness and cold fire, and the fear that ripped the soul to shreds. His mother had been there, in the dungeons of Angband. Even now, Maeglin wasn’t certain if he had dreamed her or if she had been some phantom of Morgoth’s making.

There, she had been kind. Now, she cradled his face in her hands and said you deserve this.

Waking, he rose and walked out into the night, looking up at Varda’s stars, the cold in his bones. After a long time of simply standing still he took a deep breath and turned back, fetching Anguirel before heading for the edge of the camp. It was not too hard to slip past the posted guards - they were watching for intruders coming in, not going out. There was no cover, not here, but the night sheltered him.

Raised in darkness, fallen back into it. Child of twilight, Aredhel had named him, in defiance of Eol, in the tongue of her youth.

Maeglin walked with no real destination or intention, the sword heavy at his side. He looked north, toward where Gondolin had lain. There was a soft wind that brushed against his face like a caress, and he realized slowly that he was weeping, without sound.

If there had been someone to beg, he might have begged: have mercy. Instead he drew Anguirel and wrapped his hand around the blade. It did not seem to hurt as much as it should.

He returned as quietly as he had gone and bandaged the wounds. How long, he wondered. How long.

**

The High King summoned him.

That was how it was put: the High King summons you. Maeglin picked at the words, trying to decide what they meant. Interpretation, or exact words? Was it that Turgon believed Maeglin would not obey, otherwise, or because he sought to distance himself, speaking not as family but as the voice of ultimate authority?

Regardless, he went. Of course. He didn’t know what to expect; they’d scarcely spoken three words to each other since Maeglin’s confession of what he had done. That this silence was ending now…

A slight unease curled through Maeglin’s body before he quashed it. What did it matter? The worst Turgon could do was order his execution, and that did not truly fall under the category of worst.

“You wished to see me,” Maeglin said. Turgon stood with his back turned, and they were alone - no attendants, no Idril, no Tuor. Just the two of them.

“Yes,” Turgon said. It sounded as though it took great effort. “I did.”

“May I ask what it is regarding?”

“We have spoken little of late.”

“We have,” Maeglin said slowly. “I guessed you were busy.”

“I have been. But I have not meant-” He broke off. Maeglin thought it was probably because he did not wish to lie. “Idril brought it to my attention that you have been - isolated.”

“Of my choice, High King,” Maeglin said, and thought he caught a faint twitch of Turgon’s shoulder, but little more. He still had not turned.

“Of your choice,” Turgon echoed, and Maeglin could not read what was in his voice. He turned, at last, and his face was no easier to read but that he seemed weary. “Since your mother’s passing,” he said, “I thought of you as a son.”

A part of Maeglin thought did you, truly, or did you want to think of me as such while resenting me in your heart as the get of your sister’s murderer. The other part of him only flinched at the past tense, and wanted to ask and what do you think of me now? “You gave me great honors,” he said instead.

“I have tried to think how I did not see it,” he said, voice quieter. “How I failed to notice that something was wrong.”

I was a skilled performer, Maeglin thought, and, because you saw what you wanted to see.

“I think I did not want to,” Turgon said. “Because if I acknowledged the possibility that you might not have escaped capture as you claimed, then...the law would require that I put you to death as a potential spy.”

A laugh bubbled up in Maeglin’s throat and he forced it down, holding his silence.

“If I had,” Turgon said, still quieter, “without your warning...it seems likely we would not be alive now.”

Maeglin blinked, swayed back. “You were in danger at all only because of my treachery.”

“That is the irony, isn’t it?” Turgon huffed, a sound that was not quite a laugh. “Were it not for you, the city would not have fallen. Were it not for you, its people would not have survived - or at least, far fewer would have.” He shook his head, his grey eyes moving from Maeglin’s face. “Only I wonder if Ondolindë was Doomed from the moment of its founding, as all our works are.” The melancholy was heavy in his voice, and Maeglin did not know what to say. What he should say.

“My lord,” he said, halting, “is there aught you wish of me?”

“No,” Turgon said, after a long and strangling silence. “Nothing.”

He did not realize until those words were spoken that he had hoped for something. That he had wanted Turgon to want something, even if it was to send him away, even if it was a sentence of death, even…

He bowed, and turned to leave, relieved only that it did not seem Idril had mentioned her other concerns regarding his intentions. And at the same time-

At the same time, he was reminded of how it had been in the years after his return from Morgoth’s embrace. The dread of discovery, and at the same time the yearning for someone to see, to realize, to understand. To look at him and say Maeglin, what ails you?

He quashed the desire.

“Hold,” Turgon said suddenly, and Maeglin stopped, glancing back. He gestured. “What happened to your hand?”

“An accident,” Maeglin said after a moment. “I was careless.”

Turgon scanned Maeglin’s face, eyebrows furrowed, and finally nodded. Maeglin bowed again, and this time departed without interruption.

**

The wind was beginning to carry an unfamiliar scent - Maeglin did not know it, but he guessed that it was the sea. It was faint yet, but it portended an end to their journey. He closed his eyes and imagined it, or tried, but he had no idea what it would look like. Vast, he knew. And invisible, on the other side, Valinor. A place as distant as Varda’s stars, and as unreachable.

He opened his eyes, hearing someone approach, but did not turn.

“Maeglin,” said Idril’s husband.

“Yes,” he said.

“May we speak?”

“We are now, are we not?” He flexed his bandaged hand. The cuts underneath were mostly healed now, but he had left them wrapped. There was a long quiet, and at last he turned with a sigh to meet Tuor’s clear, bright eyes, his direct gaze.

“It has been more than a week,” he said. It took Maeglin a moment to parse the statement, and then he remembered.

“It has,” he agreed.

“You have not left,” Tuor went on. “Does this mean you have reconsidered?” Maeglin tried to read what was in his voice, but could not find anything to read: no hope, no caution, no disappointment. He wavered between honesty and falsehood, but of all those he knew here this Edain was easiest to speak truth to.

“No.”

“No,” Tuor echoed, and Maeglin thought he could hear it there: the faintest traces of disapproval. He let out a faint laugh.

“No,” he said. “I have not reconsidered.”

Tuor frowned at him. “What amuses you?”

He didn’t know how to explain. “Nothing. Do you ask because you intend to try to dissuade me? Because you, as Idril, believe I deserve this condemnation? You said you would not.”

That steady regard did not change. “It isn’t meant as a condemnation,” he said. Maeglin stared at him.

“That is not what you said before,” he said. “It is too easy. Those were your words.” Tuor said nothing, and Maeglin looked away from him, breaking his gaze. “I will follow until the Mouths of Sirion,” he said. “I will remain until you reach your new home. But no further.”

There was frustration, Maeglin thought, in that furrowed brow.

“I am not yours,” he said, with some desperation. “Nor hers. If some scrap of me remains still my own - allow me some choice.”

Tuor exhaled slowly. “I said I would not stop you.”

“And your wife?” Maeglin asked. “Will she?”

“I do not have command over her.”

No. Of course not. And Idril’s will was insurmountable. But he did not need to overcome her will; only her watch, and that he thought he could do.

A peculiar relief swept through him.

“I have never wanted to be your enemy,” Tuor said into the silence between them.

“I didn’t believe you did,” Maeglin said. “Only I wanted to be yours.” He sketched a slight bow and moved to go past him, but Tuor caught his arm.

“I will not stop you,” he said, “but I will say that I don’t think you should go immediately. Give it another week after our arrival while things settle.”

For some unknown reason, he was almost tempted to agree. Perhaps because he was being asked to stay, and some foolish part of him yearned for that ersatz welcome as much as he always had. The desire to belong, the desire to be wanted.

He detached himself, though gently. “No,” he said. “I have waited long enough.”

**

“How long?” Maeglin asked aloud, and a soft voice whispered back to him, soon.

[shineoftherainbow]

Fingon, and what I think about him

-I love him (has nothing to do with the rest of this post, but it's true) 

-Short, briefly considered developing a complex about this, then decided that the ability to glomp his ridiculously tall brothers, father, and cousins was worth it 

-Dramatic Gay (tm) and so, so Extra (tm) 

-Will Fight You 

-It takes him literally forever to do his hair, because he insists on doing it alone 

-Yes, Russo, I know you like braiding it, but so do I, pass me another ribbon 

-Really likes shiny things (no I'm not projecting why do you ask) especially gold 

-Is always wearing at least some jewelry, but usually a lot 

-This means that his colour scheme ends up being blue, white, silver, and gold 

-He pulls this off, somehow (he’s so shiny guys, you have no idea)

-Asked Nerdanel to teach him so at least one of Maedhros' parents would like him 

-Actually loved it, he's not that good at actual sculpture, but great at carving, especially wood 

-Probably has some form of ADHD (I'm still not projecting) and needs someone to be working with him to focus properly 

-Impulsive, but also really easily convinced by people he cares about to abandon his plans 

-He knows this, and avoided his father like the plague while he was planning his boyfriend rescue mission 

-It's also how it only took Mae two tries to convince him to shoot him 

-Perfectly capable of being a responsible, serious, patient etc, eldest son, prince, and king, he just doesn't see the point of doing it when it's not necessary 

-Turno why are you so stuck up? I don't know Finno, why are you so childish? 

-This happens at least once a week 

-Actually used to be a rather quiet and serious child, but when Turgon was born he decided to develop an identity as an older brother that could be distinguished from Maedhros' and became awesome 

-Not Gil-Galad's father, he adopted him to make people stop worrying, and although he tried to be a decent father he kinda died while he was still figuring out the shift between cool older relative and competent parent 

-Loved the kid very much, though 

-Not actually very optimistic, but getting stuck on mistakes you made in the past is useless, getting upset about things that could go wrong is stupid, and bitching about bad situations you can't do anything about is annoying 

-So you might as well not worry about things and try to be happy with your life

 -Mae is the one who starts with the hand puns, but only because Fingon didn't want to hurt him and held off the impulse 

-After he got implicit permission the two of them could keep going for hours, it's a miracle no one stabbed them 

-This bears repeating: Will Fight You 

-Is very willing to shout at people who annoy him, whoever they are, and also always ready to punch them 

-Yes, even if the person he's pissed at is a literal god 

-He would have pulled a Fingolfin, if he hadn't been as dutiful as he was 

-Was actually pretty hurt that it was Turgon that got their father's body, it's not that he wanted to see it, but it's still unfair that his younger brother who fucked off to who knows where and left everyone to die on their own devices got to be honoured with the duty of burying their dad 

-So he's actually very hurt, and bitter, and angry, sue him, he's allowed to be 

-Wise and good and just and whatever, he totally hates being in charge of people on a day to day basis, even if he's good at it, he was overjoyed to leave the dominion of Dor-Lomin to the house of Hador 

-Like, so happy, you have no idea 

-Didn't hug anyone other than his father over this, but it was hard 

-He was therefore also very angry when Fingolfin went off to kill himself and left him alone to deal with all of the Noldor 

-A very, very tactile person, he just keeps patting people, and running his hands over random things, and playing with his hair, and keeping a hand on or near Maedhros 

-He's not actually a particularly good musician, but he likes the feeling of strings under his fingers, so he keeps trying 

-Animals are Good and he loves them 

-Still mildly jealous that Finrod got to wrestle a werewolf, though

-May or may not be an adrenaline junkie 

-He and Aredhel are each other's enablers 

-Loves all his family, but especially his boyfriend, shut the fuck up, dad, he's amazing 

-Family goes from his grandparents and beyond to that one random five year old kid who smiled at him yesterday, btw 

-And said kid's dog 

-Wow this got long 

-Anyway, he's got the survival instincts of a toddler on a sugar high, and I love him

[wistfulwizard]

1: they all seems pretty chill non nonsense people nor do I think they have any problems with each others? Polite mature people. I'm sure Celeborn and Nerdanel can relate on being seen as the +1 to their famous spouse when they are also cool. Marble sculpting is awesome but noisy tho. It's peaceful but a bit dull and bland, I'm yawning already 7/10

2: Drama queen Fëanor and Luthien is a bad combo, because urr durr silmarullls. Legolas would probably stand by Luthien since his grandpa Oropher was linked to Thingol. Gil-Galad is house ingolfin and also King of Noldors, so bad combo with Fëanor. Poor Nienor... Cool people to be with individually but conflicts and noisy 3/10

3: Dumpster fire. Maedhros with Sauron?? With that mean girl Saeros and creep Eöl? Both anti noldor and anti human? If you can team up with Éowyn and Maedhros to assert dominance... perhaps but this is a power struggle

At least Saeros is nagging everyone to take precautions, before he gets thrown out the window 1.5/10

4: Daeron can sing and stuff. Might be awkward with Elrond caus Luthien until they work through with it and end up discussing poetry and stuff. Elrong might manage ok with Curifin due to his stepdads. Fingolfin and Curufin is not the friendliest but the King has too much of a big d energy for any confrontation. Haleth would be fine. Golfin' would work out with her, Elrond likes grimy little humans, and Curufin can't really mess with his good bro Caranthir's kinda gf.

This household is like Howl's castle in the Ghibli? Like the parts aren't the most harmonious but it still walks and function. 5/10

5: If it wasn't for Maeglin infecting everyone with Corona and disliking Tuor, this would be lovely. Tuor, Faramir and Maglor talking about sea chanties. Arwen would join too, with her Rivendell nerd knowledge. Wikipedia articles, book reading and animal crossing. Hopefully Maeglin could open up or just no bother them while staying in room looking at moles or something. A 9/10 dropped to 6/10 because Maeglin tension and 1/10 if he infects everyone

6: A warm family. Aragorn and Elrohir are pals. Aredhel, Amras and Turgon are family that gets along. Those two groups would get along super well. Sparing, working it out, movie nights with pizza. Biggest draw and why this is the best option is Turgon. The man had a hidden city, of freaking course he has everything you would ever need, he is prepared. 9.9/10,

7: They are all very decent, noble and sensible. If Éomer learnt his lesson that dwarf racism is bad with Gimli, no probs with Celebrimbor. I see them drinking beer together and talking about swords and stuff. I think in such company Celebrimbor might avoid creating something stupid that ruins everything but Beleg isnt the best at that 8/10

8: There's Turin. You are going to die. There's Boromir. He's gonna die. There's Haldir. He might die, if he meets Peter Jackson. Celegorm is probably complaining that his liberty is being breached by the isolation, because he is a jackass like that. Your only hope is Idril. The atmosphere was ok to begin with but it's gloomier each day. Tragedy awaits 1/10

9: There's Melkor aka Morgoth, who is honestly the king of sitting down somewhere and not doing anything, whether in Angbang or the void so he is the dude that was already spending his days on his laptop and sees no difference. He's been working remotely for ages. Oh, very bad blood with basically everyone. Caranthir doesnt mesh with the others as well. It's Galadriel allied with Elros (brother of son-in-law and related through idril as well) and Ecthelion (loyal to her brother Turgon) against Melkor, with pragmatic but angry Caranthir joining to pout in a corner. Nothing actually ever happens. They just look at each other critically. ???/10

Pick a quarantine house: